


A Rare Gem

by gardnerhill



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Amnesty Challenge, Community: watsons_woes, Gen, Jewelry, Jewish Character, POV Original Character, Prompt Fic, Vignette, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2015, Yiddish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4518864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heinz Sokolof, like Sherlock Holmes, finds his work to be its own reward. But sometimes there are others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rare Gem

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Baker’s Three](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959000) by [gardnerhill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill). 



> For the July 2015 Watson's Woes Promptfest Amnesty Prompt _**#5, 5 + 5 = 1**. Create a poll on your own LJ listing up to five of your own Watson-centric fics that you would be willing to create an additional scene/story for. Leave the poll open for five days. Use the results and write that continuation._
> 
>  **Author’s Further Notes:** Because my poll resulted in a 4-way tie, I went back to the emails and/or Tumblr responses and added everyone’s second choices as an option. Because most people requested a vignette based on the story [Baker’s Three](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1959000) as their second option, I actually had more people select that one than in the original poll.  
> 

Heinz did not look up from the diamond he was setting as the latest customer came into Bram’s Jewelers. Since it was old Mr. Abramowicz’ shop, it was his privilege to greet the customers and direct them to Heinz or one of his own two sons – he himself only did select jobs these days for the very best customers.  
  
Bent over his work, his back partially turned from the door, Heinz nevertheless did not need to look up to learn much about the woman (for it was a woman from the step). Not used to being in this quarter. Someone new, for he didn’t recognise the sound of her shoes on the shop floor. She was by herself – no one, man nor woman, walked in with her. And her long pause after Mr. Abramowicz’ greeting let him know that she would ask for him by name.  
  
“Welcome, madam. May I help you?”  
  
“I am … looking for someone who works here, called Heinz?”  
  
A young-to-30s woman. Gentile. Nervous. Her first time selling jewelry out from under her husband.  
  
“Mr. Sokolof!” Mr. Abramowicz’ voice carried the pitch of authority he had earned after nearly fifty years in the business, but in a pleasant direct tone that would not startle a craftsman doing delicate work. “You have a customer.”  
  
Heinz nodded. “Excuse me, madam, for two minutes more, and then I am wholly yours.”  
  
“Thank  you, Mr…Sokolof.” She got his name right the first time. A Gentile with respect.  
  
“Perhaps the lady would like a nice glass of tea while she waits.” Mr. Abramowicz settled the young lady with his usual fatherly charm. Heinz took his usual care with his setting, and not until the gem was in its precise place did he lock away the work to deal with his new client.  
  
The young lady was seated near the alcove where gems could be appraised free of prying eyes. He shook her hand and ushered her into the alcove, drawing the thick curtain to give them privacy for business.  
  
“Mr. Heinz Sokolof,” the young lady said. She sounded more sure. She was determined to sell the pieces. Perhaps her husband drank or gambled, or she wished money with which to buy a divorce. “I was given your name by a previous client. She said to mention that The Jersey Rose sent me.”  
  
His first reassuring comment to her stopped in his mouth before it ever left. He closed it, his heart pounding. _Irene Adler!_ The goddess of the opera stage, whose Maddalena had never been equaled (Avram and he had gripped each other’s hands during her solo, and that was when he _knew_ ) who’d broken a million hearts when she retired, and had simply fallen off the face of the earth – _she_ had sent this lady?  
  
He caught his breath. “Excuse me, please. Yes, I do know of that person.” And if the Jersey Rose sent this girl, then the gems had just a touch of disrepute. The lady was a friend, and Irene did not want her to be robbed by going to some other _momser_ who’d take advantage of her plight by charging _ganef’s_ prices for the pieces. “It is a great pleasure to do business with the friend of such a friend. How may I help you today?”  
  
She smiled. A pretty girl, for those who noticed such things, and there was no guile in her face. “I have some jewelry to be appraised, and sold for me, Mr. Sokolof. They are very old pieces, and foreign. My father was stationed in India when I was a girl.”  
  
Heinz nodded. So, no ownership history in this country. Possibly the result of robbery overseas, or an English soldier stuffing his pockets while visiting some maharajah’s palace. It happened. “For this work – appraising and selling – the cost is one hundred pounds up front, or one percent of the value of the commission.” Most clients took the 1%, and frankly it was cheaper for all concerned, especially when they found that the old bracelet or rings weren’t as valuable as they thought.  
  
She nodded. “So our mutual friend has said.” She pulled up her purse and undid the strings. Smart girl – wore a nice simple dress that didn’t shout “money” to come to this street with this weight in her pocket, and she wore no jewelry besides her wedding ring – a small plain band but well-made, her husband was not a wealthy or extravagant man but was not cheap either… She pulled out and carefully laid ten ten-quid notes on the table. She shook her head and laughed a little. “So much money in one place! I felt like a duchess walking through the streets with this in my purse.”  
  
The full hundred pounds, up front? This meant the pieces were either very good, or looked very good. But business was business. The nature of these transactions meant that no receipts changed hands and no paper trail could incriminate either end of this deal. If she wanted her lost money back, she’d have to admit to this deed. And her words meant she was not from money herself. The jewelry very likely had come as a surprise to her.  
  
He took the notes and stowed them in his own pocketbook. “Very well. May I see your items?”  
  
She reached into her purse again for a lump tied in a handkerchief. She undid the slightly grubby knots (mud, was it? Silty stuff, not road garbage – the sort of mud one found by the banks of ….  
  
And Heinz Sokolof stared as a cascade of gold and brilliance and red poured into his hands.  
  
For a moment he merely looked at an artist’s pride, rubies and diamonds in beautifully-worked beaten gold. Then his professionalism came back and he removed his loupe from its case to examine the necklace in detail.  
  
Fine silt in the settings and creases, more of that story there. Rubies lozenge-cut, a few imperfections but nothing to ruin the piece. Diamonds round brilliant, none less than a carat each. Clean out the mud and a princess could wear this as one of her better pieces. The metal was solid gold, again fashioned with an artist’s care.  
  
He removed his jeweller’s loupe, only then registering the other pieces – a handsome gold man’s ring with a square-cut emerald, a silver bracelet with three pearls, a gold brooch in the shape of an elephant.  
  
A hundred quid? She’d gotten a bloody bargain.  
  
He examined the others with the same attention to detail. “You will not gain full market value for these pieces, Madam.”  
  
“Oh yes, I quite expected that.”  
  
His fingers paused a split-second over his abacus before they resumed their work. “I do not cheat my customers, Madam.” He made his words as coldly polite as he could.  
  
Distress from her voice – and that tone alone let him know it had not been a jibe at his faith. “Oh, I’m  so sorry! I only meant that I know there will be a loss because of how we’re doing this. And it does not concern me in the least. Please forgive me, Mr. Sokolof.”  
  
“I do so.” He resumed the clicking of the numbers, tallying everything she had brought. “The full market value of everything here is £18,350. I can sell these whole or piecemeal.”  
  
She stroked her chin and fingered her lips, eyes lowered in thought. “Your own choice, I think. If it would be easier to sell the necklace as separate gems that would be up to you.” She gave no indication that she'd just been told of a sum that would suit a peer.  
  
Break that beautiful work of art? “Whole, I think – I know one or two who might wish this one, for the right price.”  
  
“Then the only other caveat is the bracelet – I wish to keep the three pearls and sell only the silver.”  
  
More calculating – cleaning, notifying, auction fees – while he ran through his clients in his mind. “I believe I can get you at least £13,000 for the lot.” He found himself holding the ring in both hands, admiring the weight and craftsmanship of it.  
  
Her voice was warm. “I do not mind if that sum is a little lower, Mr. Sokolof. If you would like to keep that ring.”  
  
His head shot up. He’d just been thinking of how lovely a ring like this would look on Avram’s hand, a fitting gift from his jeweler lover – the ring he wanted to give him, since no _huppah_ would cover their union nor rabbi bless them. But business was business. “Madam, this is a valuable ring. Your generosity is very much appreciated, but–”  
  
She held up a hand to stay his words, and smiled. “I’ll tell you a secret, Mr. Heinz Sokolof. This jewelry is actually rightfully mine. And I am scattering it to the four corners of the earth – which is what I intend to do with the money when you are done with this commission, and any other commissions in the future.” She pursed her lips in another repressed laugh. “Think of the ring as … a Christian’s apology for clumsy words.”  
  
He pressed his own lips to keep back his own laughter, and the thought of Avram’s delighted look added joy to his own reply. “Then apology accepted, Madam!”  
  
***  
  
“Our last transaction, I’m afraid, Heinz.” Madam sat at the alcove table and handed over his hundred pounds.  
  
“Ah, the last of the mysterious treasure is it?” Heinz felt a pang as he set the samovar on to heat. He would miss this thrilling little chapter in his life. Not to mention the nice little nest egg he’d made of Madam’s fees for Avram and himself.  
  
“Even so. But it’s all found good homes, and the money will make a lot of people happier than they were.”  
  
“Including yourself.”  
  
Her eyes sparkled brighter than diamonds. She was really a very pretty woman; he hoped her husband appreciated her. “I have had a wonderful time doing this. Like yourself, I find the work its own reward.”  
  
He laughed with her. While some of his fellows became tantalized by the vast wealth under their fingers, or felt the gnawing hunger of avarice or envy – toiling over thousands of pounds’ worth of wealthy clients’ gems only to go home to bread and herrings – for Heinz the jewel he treasured most was his work. A perfectly-cut diamond, a flawless sapphire in its best setting, a row of identical rubies or emeralds in a diadem that made a plain woman beautiful when she wore it – all these were his pride and joy. And she understood that.  
  
He got out his loupe. “Any further word from our mutual friend?”  
  
“A thank you for those five splendid diamonds you cleaned for us.”  
  
“Only the best for Miss Irene Adler. She knows they are from me as well? And Avram?”  
  
In response Madam held up a pair of perfect red roses. “She instructed me to buy these for you and your friend.”  
  
He blinked his stinging eyes hard at this gift from his idol. He could die happy now.  
  
This time, a few muddy cabochons, twenty pounds each; an anticlimactic end to the treasures that had come by ones and twos to this alcove for nearly half a year.  
  
He took the gems and pushed back her £100. “One pound for this – a 1% appraisal.”  
  
She stared at the money as if only now realizing how much it was. “But what do I –“  
  
“Keep it.” He grinned. “Let this be _your_ share of the treasure!”  
  
And they ended their business association with a laugh and a glass of tea.


End file.
